’ ‘But that would make her half French,’ Hilary pointed out. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. I want to be myself. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. ’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray.
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